A Howling In The Wilderness
by Pani Drzwi
Summary: On the last night of his life, King Sky reflects and reminisces on life, death, mistakes, regret and love unbroken. Featuring Bloom as your not so average ghost. And Diaspro. In other words: Sky at his last. Written for the Winter edition of the Seasonal Competition on the WCFC forum.


**Disclaimer: I do not own Winx Club.**

**A Howling In The Wilderness**

**By: Pani Drzwi**

**Written for: WCFC Seasonal Competition - Winter (Theme:Life&Death)**

**Theme: Death**

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><p>The chamber is covered in darkness, heavy silk curtains strewn closed across the giant windows, mercilessly guarding this sick room from entry of outside light, outside life. The darkness is broken only by candles, the smell of burning wax mixed with that of sweat and herbs and sickliness and death. The candles are arranged around the large king sized bed, their flickering flames almost appear to be guarding the bed and its occupant. Their mystical fiery dance chases away the shadows and the flames melt together into a glowing auburn halo, a shield so very reminiscent to the ones the occupant's lady wife had created so lovingly in her skilful hands.<p>

The candles have been alight for four days and four nights now and seem not to tire of their endless vigil. The vigil to keep death at bay and prevent the spirit from fleeing the King's weary and feeble body. Indeed, when all else has failed only light alone might keep him anchored to life.

But even now he feels himself tire, he feels himself slipping into death's cold embrace despite the ongoing dance of flames.

The body, the weary _wreck_ of a man in the grand, ornately decorated bed is a pitiful sight. Shivering upon the pillows and swaddled with numerous expensive furs, luxurious sheets and warm blankets, it looks too small and almost, at a _very brief _glance, too childlike to possibly belong to the grand, mighty King of Eraklyon. Skilful warrior and proud leader of his people, already featured in many legends and tales alongside the revered heroes of old.

The form, thin and frail, is swallowed by the many coverings wrapped tightly around it and, if one had a morbid enough sense of humour, one could compare the body laying in the enormous bed to a tiny child trying on his father's armour - both stifled, both drowned by the grandeur which they are unable to withstand.

A truly pitiful sight which pulls the heart strings of the silent servants and healers tending to their King, the phrase of "how the mighty have fallen" ringing out clearly in the deepest corners of their hearts. They will not voice these thoughts, no for the King has always been far from a gentle man and they will risk not his ire, even if their ruler is but a shivering, pale wreck of a man at death's door.

And so they hold their tongues, their silence both a blessing and a curse to the feeble old man who had once had the world.

This is not how Erendor the VIII, King of Eraklyon and the Light Empire, known as Sky to his closest friends and confidantes had ever imagined his death would look like.

Make no mistake, Sky never held any false pretences about the process. How could have he when faced with death's true, ugly nature many times throughout his life during his career as a Specialist and then as a King leading his men to victory on bloody battlefields littered with corpses. His acquaintance with death began even in his childhood, when as a boy of six he was present at the sickbed of Erendor the VI, his father's father. There he watched as at last the wizened old King was finally overcome by tuberculosis, as he drew his last rickety breath.

_The old King is dead...long live the King._

No, there is no glory in death, no beauty in it. The writers and poets with their obsession, their tales heralding the tragic, strange beauty of it were wrong : there is no glory in death, there never was and there never will be.

'Really...never?' Unwillingly, the old King's thoughts turn to a time, many moons ago when in the middle of a battlefield he had held his General's, his Second in Command's, his _Brother's_ clammy hand when he had been grievously wounded.

_"It's okay, you're going to be all right."_ Sky remembers himself saying over and over again, more for his own sake than Brandon's, as light faded from the ever warm, kind hazel eyes and his brother in all but blood departed past the circles of the world.

'That was the first time that I cried, properly cried.' Sky remembers bitterly, even now feeling the faint sting of grief in his heart.

He and Brandon has truly been best friends, truly been a one soul in two bodies and losing him because of Sky's own foolishness, nearly destroyed the King. In the bitter, melancholic years that followed the lack of Brandon's presence had been felt acutely by Sky who often missed his friend's wise counsel and warm encouragement.

'Oh, I wish so much that you had been here friend, with me all those years! Perhaps then I would not have turned out to be such a fool. Perhaps then I would have been a better husband, father and King...' Sky's thoughts drift off - it is no good to think of such things.

Regret, remorse, grief... What good can they do when what's done is done? Brandon is dead (among many others) and him pondering the ifs and buts and what could have beens will not change matters.

'Oh but how I miss you, brother!' Sky laments internally, his clear, sky blue eyes (still sharp, still present in his great sickness and age) mist over. He blinks furiously to get rid of this moisture, these tears.

_ ('Momma, why doesn't Daddy cry? He misses Grandpops, does he not?', 'Shush, my love. Your Papa misses his Daddy very much. But he is a strong, good King and good Kings don't cry. One day you'll understand.')_

Yes, perhaps he was indeed too harsh earlier. As he casts his mind back to that terrible moment, almost sensing the ghost of Brandon's hand squeezing his own as Sky's own hour approaches, the King has to agree that perhaps the writers and the minstrels and the poets were right : seeing Brandon there, taking his last breath in his bloodied arms, his eyes still alit with bravery and strength but also with sacrifice and_ unspeakable love _for the ones he was leaving behind... There was no fear in his brother's eyes, no shame...

It was, he admits to himself, a glorious sight in its own, otherworldly way. Terrible, but great.

Just like Brandon, just like Nabu and his many other brave friends, King Sky is not afraid.

As his vision becomes less clear, his breathing shortens and becomes louder and raspier, as indescribable cold slowly seeps into his bones, as the silk handkerchiefs he takes away from his mouth after severe coughing fits become increasingly stained with crimson red blood... King Sky is not afraid.

Sky does not fear death. He never has and he damn well isn't about to begin being petrified out of his mind of it now. Dragon knows, he actually welcomes it.

'Rest...I look forward to it. Haven't I tarried enough in this world? I think..I think that I did my best as King..it was not enough in the end but...I am and have always been but a man. The Kingdom-'

Is at war. Still. The people disillusioned, angry with the monarchy.

'Father did better as King. He was a stronger ruler, wiser.'

_('You are not your Father, Sky. He might keep peace and prosperity with an iron fist, but that is not all being a great King means. You are kinder, wiser. You understand the people better my son, and sometimes love can be a more powerful weapon than a sword. You are strong too, don't ever forget that. You will be a great and just King one day my son, I have no doubt.')_

But did he really in the end, Sky questions himself and casts him mind back over his reign. Did he really put the people first?

At the beginning maybe, when he had been young and in love and full of romantic ideas on the possibilities for Eraklyon and its people. But as the rivers of honey turned into streams of vinegar, he...he had lost sight of all that was truly important. Greed and desire and passion overtook, destroying all in its path that ,at the time, he thought was worth nothing to him. He had tried swapping all the wonderful, priceless things in his life for something 'better' but it was not true... As a result his family suffered, his Kingdom suffered.._he_ had suffered.

(And still is suffering, every day his _stupid_ mistakes, _stupid_ bad decisions replay in his mind before his eyes over and over again.)

'Oh!', Sky thinks. 'Oh, how I wish that I could turn back time and go back and fix everything I did wrong.'

But this is the real world. There is magic there, true, but even that has its limits and a spell to allow him to go back and do everything right the second time has not been discovered.

'Still, I wish...'

His Mother is certainly not proud of his son, wherever she is.

_('No matter what happens, no matter what there is one thing important above all my darling boy: to be a good person.')_

Not only had he not been a good King, at this point in his life Sky can't either be proud of having been a good person either.

'My family...I destroyed it, didn't I?'

Wife dead. (Wife dishonoured, mistreated and dead.) Eldest son dead. Younger son fighting his Father's wars, possibly laying dead on a battlefield somewhere, for all Sky knows. Daughter, basically sold off, now trapped in a loveless marriage. His illegitimate children, his bastards, scorned at Court, belittled and hating their Father. Diaspro... His Brother he had let down, been too late to save. His friends he disappointed.

And so the list goes on. And on. And on.

And here he is, Erendor the VIII, Great King of Eraklyon laying in his grand bed in his vast chambers, spitting out his lungs, all alone with not one loved one beside him.

None but the silent healers and the skittish servants for company, afraid of his very shadow. The priest had already been here and left, once Sky had uttered every one of his numerous sins and had received his religious comfort.

His soul is restless though, he wishes badly for someone he loves beside him, holding his hand. _Just _holding his hand!

He had always imagined this moment, for morbidity's sake, as him surrounded by people who mattered to him. His family, friends, loved ones...

'Well you reap what you sow, I guess.' Sky thinks bitterly, yet his eyes moisten with unshed tears. He is allowed to cry, finally, he supposes. Soon, he may not be able to as his body ceases to work.

And so he does. He weeps bitterly and remorsefully, tears of until now unshed sadness and grief. And regret, _oh the regret!_ A howling in the wilderness...He weeps not as a King or an old man but as boy. A young, tiny boy desperate for the comfort of his mother.

And he feels no shame.

Kings aren't supposed to cry, but now he no longer feels like a King. For the first time in his life he is Sky, _just Sky _and Sky is full of remorse and sadness.

"M-my King? Your Majesty?" a hesitant voice shatters the almost _holy _silence and she steps out of the darkness, approaching his bedside. "Sky?!", she adds, a little more urgently.

Diaspro may be old like him as well, but she is still dazzlingly, sublimely, seductively beautiful as always. The streams of silver in her blond hair complement enchantingly the exquisite jewels in her hair, the rubies sown into the rich bodice of her dress catch and reflect the light of the flickering candle flames. Her eyes, sparkling amber, shine brightly with intelligence and devotion and her beautiful face appears ageless.

"Diaspro..." Sky wheezes, the words forming at his lips slowly and with great effort. She hurries to kneel at his bedside and takes his hand, her fingers smoothly caressing the wrinkled, discoloured skin and the cool stones of his rings. "You are beautiful."

She is. She truly is, Dragon she is _absolutely dazzling!_

Diaspro smiles and dips her head slightly to acknowledge the compliment. Worry does not leave her eyes however. Sky finds himself smiling back, the corners of his lips stretching back slightly when-

"My Lord!", the shout of fear leaves Disapro's lips as he bends over and retches his guts out. She patiently holds out a porcelain bowl to him and helps to keep him in position as he vomits back up blood and the little food the servants had managed to get into him that morning.

"Sky, oh Sky are you alright?! Do you need me to get a healer? Hush, hush now, you'll be alright, you will..." she frets and worries over him, her voice trembling.

She helps him to straighten back up against the pillows and winces as he endures another coughing fit, each cough a brutal, painful, _lung-ripping_ sound.

"Right, that's it! Sky you just stay right here and I will go and get a healer for you now."

"W-wait", she turns to leave but he manages to grab her wrist lightly, with effort. "Stay."

"N-no, Sky but you need help! I have to go get you help!" Diaspro protests.

"Stay, please... I need to..I need to tell you something.", he rasps in reply.

"...Alright.", she concedes and kneels back down at his bedside. "What is it?"

"M-my wife..."

"Bloom?", the name sounds _off_ at Diaspro's lips, she never really got over her bitterness towards the 'other woman'. "What about her?"

"People..people always said that she died..that she died of a broken heart."

"..."

"Perhaps..it was a broken heart because of me."

"Don't be stupid!" Diaspro stifles a bitter, sarcastic half-laugh. "Her death was not of your own doing!"

"It weighs upon my heart nonetheless." Sky sighs heavily.

"And you." He adds, wheezing in between coughs.

"Me?"

"I-I have not treated you right Diaspro. You had been so good to me, so kind. Kinder than I ever deserved-"

"Don't be silly!"

"You have shown me kindness and love and I only mistreated you for it. It was not right of me and I am sorry, Diaspro. Truly. Please, I hope that you can find it in yourself to forgive me."

She laughs, a high, shaking, _hysterical_ laugh and glittering tears begin to gather at the corners of her eyes.

"Sky, there is nothing to forgive! _Nothing_. You are a good man and a noble and just King. Please my love, do not beat yourself up over nought now! Concentrate on getting better."

"Noble?!" Sky spits, angry at himself. "I am anything but! I should have married you Diaspro, not kept you around like a common whore!"

"And I understand why you did not!", she argues in a hushed whisper. "I knew your love my King, and that was enough! That _is_ enough! Sky...I love you, I always have!"

Yes, she does love him. She always had. All she ever was, ever wanted, ever known was loving him and all he ever wanted was freedom from that love. He loved her body, but her mind? Her self? Diaspro, the person?

'No', Sky thinks. 'Not as with Bloom, at least.'

In this moment, he hates it. He hates himself because what had Diaspro ever done to deserve it?!

"I love you too." He whispers back, just so she hears it truly this one last time. So that she has something to hold on to, to believe once he is gone and finally no longer haunting her. He doesn't know whether it is fully true or not, but he does love her to some degree Sky finally figures out.

"I know." She gets up and bends over to kiss him on the forehead. Sky inhales the sweet scent of her perfume mixed with the bitter scent of the herbs. The smell filters through his lungs, lifting him to almost new heights, new freedoms...

"I will go get the healer now, my love, you need someone to look at you. Will you be all right on your own for a few minutes?" Diaspro asks softly, lovingly.

He nods - _he thinks_- and he hears her leave accompanied by a rustle of her silk skirts. The door is opening when he mutters :

"I am not on my own... My wife is here..and my son...Edward."

_She_ is there, standing about a foot from the bed in the half-light, half-shadow of the flickering candles. Dressed in a plain yet elegant navy blue gown, her fiery hair tumbles in waves down her back reaching her waist. The seemingly untameable force of nature that is her beautiful hair is held in place with a simple, delicate tiara.

She looks _so_ beautiful, _so_ alive. _So beautifully alive_! Her cheeks are flushed a pale shade of pink and her gorgeous blue eyes sparkle with life. Her mere presence is _electrifying_ and she is standing there, a representation of her power, of _life,_ and setting the hairs on the back of his neck on edge. Her positive faerie aura drives the cold away from his bones, lightens his heart.

"_Bloom_.", he chokes out, voice thick with joyful tears. "You-you're really here!"

She smiles gently at him and then looks slightly down. He notices that her hand is resting on the shoulder of a young boy with a mop of blond angelic curly locks and his wife's blue eyes. His little angel. His Edward.

"Edward! My little Prince..." The child smiles at him, like his mother, all dimples and innocence. Sky's heart squeezes painfully, his throat clogs up as he is overwhelmed with emotion.

"Edward...I am sorry. I am so sorry, my boy. I am so sorry that I couldn't save you!"

_"Your son my Lord, he is very unwell..."_

_"The Prince worsens by the hour!"_

_"He was always a sickly little child..."_

_"Sky, please do something! Our son is dying, do something! Edward, Edward please do not leave me!"_

_"My son, breathe! I am the King and I command you to breathe! You will breathe for me! Breathe!"_

_"NOOO! My baby! My baby..."_

_Uncontrollable sobs...unmeasured grief...unnumbered tears_

The child keeps looking at him, smiling. Perhaps he is just a figment of Sky's feverish imagination...

"I miss you. Both of you."

"Why? We've never really left.", his wife answers him in a soft tone.

"I...not a day went by when I didn't think of you. I _didn't_ forget about you!"

"We know you didn't husband."

"Good...I wanted to make sure you knew." Something will not leave Sky's mind. "Bloom, listen. About Diaspro..with Diaspro.."

_"Have you seen the King? All his attention has turned to the Lady Diaspro, he will see not his wife!"_

_"It is true, he loves her now! I swear to the Dragon, I saw them both in the gardens just now! Where he and the Queen used to walk..."_

_"What a pity... The Queen is the most beautiful woman in the Dimension to all men...but her husband."_

_"She is going mad with grief...no support...the children have been taken from her."_

_"They call the Lady Diaspro 'Mama' now!"_

_"Poor woman..."_

"I dishonoured you, my love. Cast you aside, forgot about you and your endless love for me in favour of that _harlot_, her seductive curses and empty promises. I-"

"Yet, now you dishonour her." Bloom interrupts him, her melodic voice smoothly dancing over and breaking off his hoarse, wheezing one. "Please Sky, it was not Diaspro's fault. Not that time. She did not enchant you or seduce you, you _knew_ fully what you were doing!"

He opens his mouth to protest, to explain himself but a piercing look from her silences him. His Queen then looks away, her gaze tracing the outline of all the luxurious, elaborately designed objects in the chamber. A melancholic, sad expression appears on her features as she gazes at the photographs and the portraits hanging upon the walls in their golden frames.

"Perhaps I too was at fault in the end..." She muses, a distant look on her face as she immerses herself in the past. "I was too caught up in my grief, too caught up in living in the land of the dead that I forgot I was still breathing and I forgot that I still had people to love in the land of the living.."

She looks up at him, her eyes oddly shimmering. "Yes, the blame was not all yours in the end, husband, as far as our marriage is concerned. So please, do not waste your strength begging for my forgiveness. It does not need to be said. But if it shall put your soul at ease, have it ; here, you are forgiven."

The ball of emotions clogging up Sky's throat swells and he swallows loudly, with difficulty. He doesn't know how to react, what to say in the face of such kindness, such love directed at an unworthy man like him. Bloom always was too good for him, in every sense of the word...

"I am but the least you should seek forgiveness from when you count your sins, husband." Bloom adds and harshness, _coldness_ is for the first time evident in her tone.

Sky flinches, he cannot help it.

"I..I know. Believe me I know, Bloom! There are many...almost too many and I-I cannot put it right for some of them. It is sadly too late!"

"For some you can never make it right."

"Yes...I know and I regret it all, bitterly! The gold, the power..._none_ of it was worth it in the end and I wish above all that I could somehow turn back time and fix it."

"Regret is sometimes not enough, Sky."

"I know. Dragon, I-I..know!" Sky sobs, overcome with emotions. Through his tears he can see pity in both the mother's and the son's faces. How pathetic for his son, his dead son to see him in this way!

Sky lets himself cry for a good few minutes, the ghostly figures of his wife and son remain at his bedside waiting patiently. The old King is heartened, a little, that they choose to stay.

When he decides that enough is enough, Sky raises a pale shaking hand to wipe his eyes clear of tears. Tears that no matter how honourable, how sincere will do no good to anyone now.

Wearily, he looks at the flickering silhouettes of his companions again.

"Why have you come?", he asks in a hoarse whisper.

"To see my children." Bloom answers him. "They were the only wholly good, pure things in my life and in life I had neglected them for I was too caught up in grief for my perfect eldest son and for my marriage. I wanted to see them this last time, to see how far they have come and to let them know somehow that they were and still are loved."

Her words move Sky, who fumbles his old, wrecked mind for something to relay to her.

"My son Alexander..."

"Is truly great." Sky assures her. "He is a ferocious fighter, so brave and so loyal to his people and Kingdom. I am proud of him."

"Good for he has turned out exactly as you have wanted, has he not?" Bloom replies, angrily, bitterly. "He is exactly what you have moulded him, from a young age, to be. So much pressure, such high expectations...he never really got to be a child! You took his childhood from him, his innocence and locked him away so that instead of playing, he was training to become the perfect warrior King you had wanted him to be! Tell me, did you sacrifice even an hour of your busy time to be with your son? No, he was always alone... My boy, my poor, poor boy!"

"Bloom..."

"But there is goodness in him Sky and his spirit is pure. He will become a magnificent King who will finally bring peace to all the land, that I know for sure."

"Your words gladden my heart. But tell me, will he ever forgive me?" Sky whispers, almost too afraid to ask.

"Will he forgive you for not being there all those years? For throwing him into the bloody arms of war like a sacrificial lamb? All for honour, for glory, for power! To answer your question : I don't know, even I do not see that far."

Sky winces, but it is as he had expected. Still, there is a small hope that his boy will one day forgive him. Sky knows, deep in his heart, that his son is ten times the man he himself is and that makes his wish an encouraging thought.

"And my daughter, Marion. If poor Alexander was the lonely child, she was the unwanted, forgotten one! You did not even try to love her husband, and I can't understand why! She is so beautiful, so well-mannered, so intelligent, so perfect! Do you not know...?"

"I do know how beautiful she is. And how clever." Sky says his voice choking, his ears burning at the disappointment, the hurt in her tone. "I am so very proud of her now. And..and I wish that I could have loved her more!"

She stares at him, waiting.

"Yes..I should have perhaps loved her more. But, I couldn't. I just _couldn't_, my love! She is so, _so_ very like you Bloom both in looks and in manners and every time I would look at her, it was _you_ that I would see in her stead. She was a reminder of you and of what you did to me, of the pain you caused me!" He is now the angry one, his voice rising to angry, hoarse croak. Bloom stares at him unwaveringly, awaiting his accusations. But he cannot be angry with her.

"So as much as I wanted to, I could not love her." Sky finishes in a resigned tone.

"'Of what I did to you'? My love, I did nothing!", she counters.

"Yes, you did! _You_ broke my heart, _you_ ruined me..._you_ turned me into the monster that I am now!" He shouts in response, just before another big coughing fit overwhelms him.

Bloom laughs. "My love, your accusations are false. Can you not see that this was all of your own doing?"

"No!" Sky breathes heavily. But he sees the truth in her words.

"Yes, what you are now is by _your_ own choice. _You_ picked your own path of destiny, not I. _You_ made your own decisions, not I. It is sad that so many suffered as a result, but such is life."

"Life is what?" He croaks, confused.

"Not very fair. It's just fairer than death, that's all."

"I...I..."Sky swallows loudly, by now both emotionally exhausted and physically tired. His vision begins to grow darker..."I was meant to be _so_ great!"

"I know.", his wife says emphatically."I know."

"You..you wish to blame me?"

"No.", she laughs gently, an empty sound which no longer lightens his spirit as it used to many years ago. "I am tired of blame. I am sure you are too. In the end, we are all but leaves upon the winds of destiny, powerless to do all but follow what was already decided for us long ago. You are a man Sky, and in your life you did as all men do : some good things, some bad things. On balance, there were more good things, j_ust a few_ more _but more,_ so do not be so disheartened. Not everything you did was for nothing."

He smiles through his tears, a bittersweet smile, allowing her words to once more comfort his heart.

"Let us now put away the blame, the pain, the regret. Be still and sleep now, Sky, you are tired." She approaches his frail form, bends over and kisses his old, chapped lips with her own. It is a cold, ghostly kiss which sends shivers down his spine yet in a strange, oxymoronic fashion it comforts him in a manner that had been alien to him for years.

"Bloom..." Sky whispers when she withdraws to gently run a hand over his fevered brow.

"Shush, sleep now my love." She says, gently caressing his forehead. "Sleep now."

And so he does.

**Fin.**

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><p><strong>AN:**

**And so here it is! My entry to my first writing competition on this site. I'm very excited! The competition is still running, until 10th March, so if anyone would like to try their hand at writing for this fantastic theme (curtesy of fellow forum mod, PierceTheVeils) or simply wants to check out the other stories already written for this, please check the WCFC forum for details.**

**Now, for some thoughts on this piece. I actually really enjoyed writing this and so I sincerely hope that this was an enjoyable read and that it had at least a little emotional impact. This was my first time writing the character of Sky and I hope that I have done him justice, though he probably wasn't portrayed in a very positive light. But it was a just light, I think.**

**Now, not to bash but also no false pretences :I don't like the show, canon Sky and I never have : for me he only ever came across as a selfish, unlikable character who lacks flavour ie. is not very interesting. But at the same time he does have some redeemable qualities. So when writing him, in his last moments but also in the little hints of his life over the years as he remembered bits and pieces, I tried to mesh the two together, the good and the bad of Sky's personality. Now, don't get me wrong, Sky is not the typical, bad, evil character. But he's not perfect and fully good either. Over the course of this piece I redeemed him, but not completely. He was full of regret for the things which he had done during his reign (which I imagine as a rather scandalous one in which he starts off really well and then gets kind of corrupted...hmm, I'd probably need a long multichap fic to portray it fully, haha XD) and he apologises etc., but at the same time in places he remains self-centered, he remains** **egoistic, he tries to shift blame...So I wonder, was he redeemed at the end in your eyes? Hmm...it's a bit hard to fully convey what I want to say here but I hope that reading the story makes it clear. Some readers will probably feel that I have treated Sky too harshly in this piece, but I felt that it was apt, especially in this setting (which is slightly AU. Not wildly, as in could possibly become canon but slightly nonetheless.).**

**How about my treatment of the other characters in this piece? Regarding the appearance of Bloom and little Edward, it is up to the reader to decide whether they were really there or if they were a product of Sky's feverish hallucinations...**

**This oneshot was inspired by the TV show, The Tudors. Most specifically, by a scene in the final episode when Henry the VIII hallucinates/dreams that his dead wives come and visit him as his death approaches. The title comes from one of the pieces in the soundtrack to the show, a hauntingly beautiful piece of music which you can go and listen to on Youtube if you'd like, called 'A Howling Wilderness' or 'the death of Jane Seymour'.**

**Hmm... I shall cease my rambling now and go and leave you in peace. Big thanks again to Pierce for running this awesome competition! :D**

**Thanks so much for taking time to read this story and now, I would really love to hear what you thought about it! So please, on your way out, be very kind and leave me a little review! Pretty, pretty please! *stares at readers with big, pleading eyes* Reviews really mean a lot to me guys and I appreciate every single one of them!**

**Many thanks, **

**Pani Drzwi :)**


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